


Be My Mistake (and My Infinite)

by saotomevera



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: But we'll get there, F/F, Mild Sexual Content, One Shot, gonna be two chapters, henelope - Freeform, penelope is a painter, portrait of a lady on fire theme, they're kind of stubborn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:20:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24012727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saotomevera/pseuds/saotomevera
Summary: The story of how Hope and Penelope managed to fall in love in between quick glances and impossibilities. Set in France, Brittany. During the 18th century."Penelope Park, touching the angelic and soft skin of the other girl’s face, thinks that her hands have never been more blessed. She can’t help but melt into the thought of Hope. No matter how hard she has tried, something about the auburn-haired girl always pulled her back. Just like magnets. Penelope couldn’t resist the pull anymore, although she well knew that the union would hurt her. They’re like two delicate magnets, pulling each other just to collide rigorously on the way."Or Henelope with "Portrait of a Lady on Fire" theme.
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson & Penelope Park, Hope Mikaelson/Penelope Park
Comments: 14
Kudos: 62





	Be My Mistake (and My Infinite)

Penelope has always imagined her life going to this direction. She has always imagined her future like the way it is now. She wished to be a strong woman, so she became one. She wanted to be like her father, and she succeeded.

But that doesn’t mean she didn’t face any struggles on the road.

Her struggles were different. Her struggles were pretty. Now Penelope feels like nothing will ever be as pretty as her struggles again.

She always knew love was a dangerous line to cross. It was forbidden. It was doomed. Penelope knew that love always brought pain. She knew they were like sisters. Wherever the love was, the pain followed two steps behind.

She knew there were so many conditions on love. It meant sacrifices, it meant being selfish and selfless at the same time, but most importantly, it meant unfinished endings. That, however, didn’t stop her from falling into that hole.

She is now sitting in front of bunch of students on a small taboret made of wood. Her back is arched, her hands are on her knees. She’s keeping her chin up, letting the beautiful waves of her hair fall from both sides of her face. She looks powerful. She is the definition of powerful.

“Focus on my posture,” she orders to the class, to which everyone responds by nodding their heads. Ten young ladies are trying to capture Penelope Park’s undefinable beauty and convey it to their sketchbooks in front of them, but it doesn’t feel possible.

“Don’t forget to draw my hands,” Penelope reminds them, never breaking her posture even for a second. “Be careful about their angle.”

Students keep drawing her in complete silence with the fear of getting their teacher’s nerves up. They draw her mesmerizing face, and her wavy hair. They draw her delicate hands and her shiny arms. They give all of their emotion to the sheets in front of them, but none of them is enough to do justice to the woman posing in the middle.

“Who did bring it here?” Penelope asks when her attention shifts to the portrait standing behind the students. Her voice is stone cold. Her eyes are fixated on the portrait, as if she stared long enough, she would go back to that moment right there. Her eyes follow a girl when she speaks up.

“I did, Miss Park,” she speaks so small. So small that Penelope struggles with hearing her.

“Why did you do it?” Penelope asks.

“I thought it was beautiful,” the girl replies, “I wish your apologies if I crossed any line ma’am. I’ll put it back to where I got it.” the girl explains nervously.

Penelope closes her eyes for a moment before standing up. She gets closer to the portrait. Her fingers trail down on the woman in the painting. She caresses the surface. She _remembers._ That’s until she feels the eyes of her students on her.

“Did you paint it, Miss?” one of her students asks her, she’s caught off guard.

“Yes,” she simply says.

“What is the name of it?” the girl pushes.

“Portrait of a Lady on Fire.” she replies.

And right there, Penelope feels like she is being stabbed by the heart several times.

* * *

YEARS AGO

The sea is wild. The sun is burning through Penelope’s skin. Her mouth has gotten dry and the waves hitting the small cockboat they’re on doesn’t treat well to her already nauseated stomach. She wants it all to be over. She had to leave her home, her work to get this thing done. She is now sailing on a sea in France, trying to make her way to her taskmaster’s house. She really needs that money, but she questions if it’s worth it when another wave hits the weak body of their boat.

This time when she looks at the sea, she sees her wooden box, in which her toiles are placed, floating on the water. She doesn’t even need to rethink. She holds the tip of her dress and jumps into the sea. The water is colder than she has expected, but she needs to get her supplement. She swims, her dress makes her feel tired. She is now carrying the twice amount of the weight of her body. Her body is shaking, but with a swift move, she holds onto her box.

“What are you looking at, Milton?” she hisses, her teeth hitting each other with impossible speed. “Help me up.”

Milton is quick with his movements. He holds his hand out to the girl in water. His body feels a little too weak to pull her up for a second, but Penelope helps him by holding onto the boat. She’s now back onto the board, her supplement survived. She’s wet from head to toe, and her short hair is dripping waterdrops to the wooden floor. She’s trembling.

What a great day to be alive, she deadpans.

When the boat arrives to the shore, Milton helps her carry her stuff. They make their way towards the end of the beach when Milton stops in his tracks, making Penelope question with a lifted brow.

“Aren’t you gonna help me with the rest?” she asks. She is not amused to the slightest.

“I would love to…” he starts, scratching the back of her head, “…but I need to sail back.”

Penelope’s face drops, her eyes sharpen.

“At least tell me where I should go.” she demands.

“Just follow the road with the trees. The house is at the end of it.” he smiles. He’s apologizing.

“Thanks, Milton.” she says, not offering a smile in return but Milton knows that she still loves him. However much she doesn’t want to show.

She grabs the boxes Milton has been carrying and starts walking towards the house. Normally, it wouldn’t feel that long to Penelope but with the weight of the boxes on her back, the road doesn’t seem like it has intentions to end. She feels tired. Her legs start to burn. Her arms, however, are used to these kinds of challenges. After years of lifting heavy boxes like this, Penelope’s arms are shaped in a beautiful form.

She catches the glimpse of the house after what feels like an eternity. It looks old, made from bricks. Its walls are dark gray yet it still looks better than Penelope’s small house back in her town. It’s quite large and there is something that makes Penelope’s stomach twist as she examines the details.

She knocks on the door twice before a young and small lady opens it. She’s quite shorter than Penelope and her arms look weaker. She has beautiful black hair and brown eyes. She also would have a pretty face if it weren’t for the dirt covering it. She excuses herself before wiping her face with the sleeve of her dress.

“I am Penelope Park.” she introduces herself, stretching out a hand.

“Yes, my lady has mentioned your arrival would be today.” the girl takes the offered hand and gives it a little shake. “Please, come in.” she moves aside to let Penelope in.

The house doesn’t look any different from inside. The walls are moderately dark. They have small cracks on them here and there, yet they are beautifully decorated. Several portraits of several different people are hung upon the wall. They all look related somehow. Penelope wonders if their family is this huge. Despite all of those decorations, Penelope feels like the house is somehow still incomplete. It makes her feel alive yet still a little dead. She doesn’t get why she’s having so much trouble by naming what she feels.

The maid takes her to her room upstairs.

“This is where you will be staying, madam.” the girl explains.

“It’s pretty.” she lies. The room looks like it’s been used to store unwanted stuff. Penelope can’t help but feel like one.

“This was the only room we had available. Sorry it is a little messy, we’ve had a lot of guests staying here recently.” the maid replies.

Penelope goes inside to leave her belongings to the side. Her shoulders feel much better now. With the relief of getting rid of the pain, she rubs her arms as she goes next to the maid.

“How long have you been staying in here?” Penelope wonders.

“Three years. My lady used to live in England but she had to come here for some business dealing.”

“I understand.” Penelope feels like she has already missed her house. But this is only for seven days, she reminds herself.

She takes off her clothes when the maid leaves the room. She hangs there somewhere around to dry. She lights the fireplace and sits in front of it. With her legs pulled up to her chest, she lets the warmth of the fireplace make her feel alive again. Her limbs feel more powerful. Her hair finally gets dry, but leaves her with a slight headache. The fire lights the half of her bronze skin in the dim room as she takes a cigarette and places it in between her lips.

She inhales. A long one. She takes all the smoke in, letting it hit each wall of her lungs.

She breathes out. It’s the first time she smiles today.

A couple of hours later, upon hearing the help screams her stomach has been sending her, she decides to go down to eat. The halls are dark and the household is asleep. Therefore, she takes every step of her so carefully.

She finds some bread, and some cheese. The maid comes up to her when Penelope is in the middle of her eating.

“Sorry.” Penelope apologizes, “I was just really hungry, but I can take care of myself.”

“Yes madam.” the maid replies.

“How can I call you?” Penelope asks, “Tell me your name.”

The girl tilts her head to the ground, “Colette.” she almost whispers.

“It’s such a pretty name, Colette.” Penelope offers her a smile after feeling the distressed vibe radiating from the girl. “Could you bring me some wine, Colette?”

“Yes madam.” she goes only to return with a bottle of red wine seconds later.

She pours it down for Penelope. Then Penelope gestures her to sit.

“How is the young mistress?” Penelope asks, taking a sip from her wine.

“I don’t know her that well, madam.”

“How?” Penelope sounds confused, “Don’t you live in the same house?”

“She only arrived few weeks ago.” Colette explains.

“Where was she before?”

“The Monastery.” Colette’s answer is short. “In Berlin.”

“The Monastery?” Penelope feels like she wasn’t expecting this answer, “Why did she come here?”

“Her older sister was supposed to get married, but she couldn’t. Therefore, Miss Mikaelson has to do the marriage now.”

Penelope doesn’t understand, nor she tries to. She thinks it’s probably a family drama in which her nosey nose wouldn’t be appreciated. She focuses on finishing her meal with Colette sitting by her side. They have small talks as Penelope eats. When she’s done, she wishes a good sleep to the girl and goes back to her room upstairs.

She goes to her bed, letting herself feel relaxed after a quite intense day. Her back is hurting like hell and Penelope wishes she could get a good massage. Her eyes almost close for a sleep until they linger on something. There’s something in the room which is covered with sheets that Penelope can’t exactly understand. She slowly wakes up, gets the candle right next to her nightstand. She’s hesitant as she gets closer to that thing, the reason of which she can’t figure out. There’s something cold about this house that makes Penelope uneven. Her fingers touch the fabric, she grabs it tightly before she tosses to the ground. She is slightly startled when she sees nothing but a painting.

A portrait that has never been finished.

A portrait of a woman, but her head isn’t painted.

It sends a chill down Penelope’s spine.

She wonders the story. She wonders if she’s the woman she will be painting. But no curiosity is useful now, so she goes back to sleep.

* * *

The next day, she is woken up by the maid, telling her to go downstairs. She puts on some proper clothes and does as she was told. When she arrives, there’s a lady waiting for her. She’s in her forties, Penelope takes a guess. She is older than Penelope but still looks as pretty as the young woman. Her skin is smooth, her face is undeniably beautiful. She has a sharp bone structure. Her eyes are green, or hazel Penelope would say. But their tone is different from Penelope’s. That woman’s eyes are paler, more tired.

Penelope greets the woman with a smile, she receives one back.

“Good morning, Penelope.” the lady shakes her hand, “Did you sleep well last night?”

“Yes Mrs. Mikaelson, the bed was very comfortable.” Penelope replies.

“Please call me Hayley.” the lady demands as she gestures Penelope to sit down with her.

Penelope sits down with the lady. She takes a sip from the wine that Colette has brought her, waiting for Hayley to continue talking.

“You know…” Hayley takes a sip from her drink, “…your father made that portrait of mine.” she explains as she points out the massive portrait hung upon the fireplace. “I was pretty when I was younger.”

She doesn’t miss the proud smile on Penelope’s face. The young girl turns at her after admiring the portrait for a while.

“He did a great job.” Penelope says, her voice filled with both pride and longing.

“He did. That’s why I called you for this job. You will be painting a portrait of my daughter, Hope.” 

Penelope nods. She actually feels proud to be likened to her father.

“We will send the portrait to her potential-husband, he seems like he’s into her. Therefore, the portrait shall be perfect.” the older woman says. “You must show all the beauty she has.”

Penelope nods again, “You can be sure that I will do my absolute best.”

“But there’s something you need to be careful about…” Hayley explains as her eyes meet with Penelope’s.

Penelope lifts her brow, silently asking her to keep explaining.

“You must paint her without her knowing.” she takes another sip from her drink, “She refuses to be painted. She thinks you’re here in order to keep her company during her walks. She hasn’t been allowed to go outside for a while, so, she got very happy when she heard the news. You must study her well.”

“Yes ma’am, you can trust me.” Penelope assures her. She doesn’t need to understand what’s going on, she just needs the money.

They don’t talk so much after than that, and Penelope excuses herself to go back to her room. She hangs some sheets on the furniture in the room, she makes herself a place in which she can paint the lady without being noticed. She places her toile and brushes behind those sheets. A knock on the door distracts her.

“Miss Mikaelson is waiting downstairs for your company.” Colette pokes her head in. Penelope gestures her to come in as she rushes next to her.

“What happened to the young mistress’ sister?” Penelope whispers. “Her mother was acting weird. Why aren’t they letting her walk alone?”

Colette looks down to her hands, swallowing hard before she talks. It’s like she’s trying to decide whether she should tell the truth or not, “She killed herself when we were taking a walk near the cliff one day. When I looked down, she was laying on the ground, covered with blood. Mrs. Mikaelson has been very careful about her other daughter since then.”

Penelope freezes for a moment, her hands feel cold, her heart race fasten. She looks at Colette with her lips slightly parted. “How do you know that she killed herself?”

“Because I didn’t hear her scream.”

* * *

As Penelope is going down the stairs one by one, she spots the lady’s figure. She’s wearing a black long coat with its hood on. The room almost has no lights, and in it, covered with black, Hope looks like she has united with the darkness inside. She almost melts into it. Penelope doesn’t see anything about the girl, she is facing the door.

“Hey.” Penelope softly says, not wanting to startle her. But she is disappointed when the girl opens the door and starts walking without saying anything.

“Rude much?” Penelope mutters to herself as she runs behind the girl to keep up.

Hope doesn’t bother to look behind, she doesn’t care if the girl is following. She doesn’t bother to learn her name or to know what she looks like. She doesn’t care about greeting her. She just wants her freedom. She just wants to breathe again, being able to walk on somewhere other than her house. Her legs wouldn’t stop even if she wanted to. Her heart starts beating faster and faster as soon as she starts walking away from the house. Hope has been waiting for this and she’s not planning to lose.

They walk through the road with the trees. The road on which Penelope has walked the day before. Hope is walking fast, so, Penelope is doing her best to keep up with her. The raven-haired girl still hasn’t seen a glimpse of the other one. She is short, almost the same height with Penelope but only slightly shorter. Penelope wants to study her. She needs to study her but all she sees is the black hood of her coat, covering her head.

Penelope realizes they’re going to the direction of the beach, but that’s not the exact way Penelope has walked on. Maybe they’re going to another side of that beach, Penelope thinks to herself. She doesn’t bother to ask, Hope doesn’t look like she would grant her with an answer anyway.

The rocky road is almost over when Hope’s hood comes down slowly, revealing her hair. At first, Penelope can’t believe what she’s seeing because her hair looks like nothing she has seen before. It looks soft, and healthy, and her long locks are laying on her shoulders like a magma fresh out of a volcano. Her auburn hair makes Penelope want to admire it, right there. It makes Penelope want to paint her more now. And as if she can read minds, Hope turns her face back, stealing a glance from Penelope. In that two seconds, Penelope understands that she’s not only mesmerized by hair, but also her eyes.

And they almost arrive to their destination point. Penelope, then, understands that they’re going towards the end of a cliff. She is calm, that is until she sees Hope running fast towards the cliff.

Penelope can swear that her heart stops beating for a second. She remembers Colette’s words about the death of the older sister.

The next thing she remembers is that now she’s running faster than she has ever did in her life to catch the girl. Catch her before it’s too late.

But Hope is already there, so Penelope mentally prepares herself for what’s about to happen next. Not that it would make her feel any better.

She closes her eyes shut, only few steps before the cliff. Hope must have jumped already, she thinks. That’s why she’s so surprised to see her when she opens her eyes. She’s just standing near the cliff, facing the sea.

Now Penelope is furious.

“What were you thinking?” she says, louder than she intends to. Her voice is shaking, she’s out of her breath.

Hope takes in the beauty of the sea before answering, “I’ve been dreaming of this for years.” she says. When she turns to Penelope, her eyes are focused on hers.

“Of dying?” Penelope snaps back. She still hasn’t recovered from the adrenaline rush. Her heart feels like it’s pumping too much blood that it might just explode.

“Of running away.” Hope’s answer is simple, but it sure leaves an effect on Penelope.

They walk down to the beach in silence. Penelope follows her few steps behind. Hope’s hair dance in a rhythm that Penelope admires whenever the wind hits her. She is beautiful. But she is annoyingly silent. Penelope stares at her, she tries to study every single part of her face. If she’s going to paint her from memory, she better be looking at her carefully. She studies her side profile. Her ocean blue eyes, and her fiery hair. She studies the shade of her skin, and her jawline, and her perfectly shaped nose. The more she studies, the more caught up she feels.

Hope Mikaelson is the right girl to be studied.

They walk back home, never breaking the silence. Penelope knows she’s not here to make a new friend, she’s here to do her job. But Penelope also doesn’t miss the feverish glances that Hope sends her way. She can’t deny the fact that she’s curious. Curious to know more about her. But that’s not her goal, she reminds herself. Therefore, she shuts her mouth and focuses on the task.

When they arrive, they go upstairs together. Penelope finds out that their rooms are opposite of each other. Hope sends her one last glance before Penelope turns her back to enter her room. That’s until she hears the girl’s voice.

“Did you bring a book I can borrow?” Hope asks, she’s looking at her hands.

“Yes, in fact… I did.” Penelope replies, gestures Hope to follow her.

She goes to her nightstand and takes the only book she has brought. When she goes back to Hope, the girl is scanning the room with her eyes.

“It’s odd that you sleep here alone.” Hope says as she takes the book. Their hands brush and Hope has some kind of a challenging look in her eyes. Almost like passion, but it’s hidden deep down there. Penelope only gets a glimpse of it, but it has vanished in a millisecond.

Hope leaves without saying anything else.

She leaves Penelope with a small smirk placed on her lips.

* * *

Their next morning in the beach is windier, but the sun is brighter. They walk apart again. Hope walks faster, Penelope following her few steps behind. She has tried to paint her from memory last night, but she still needs a lot of parts to memorize. What she has in memory right now, is not enough and never will be.

They sit on the sand, filling their lungs with the fresh smell of the sea.

“I want to swim.” Hope says, there’s an expression on her face that Penelope can’t quite name.

“I wouldn’t recommend,” Penelope says with a mocking face, she shrugs her shoulders, “Unless you want to catch pneumonitis. Maybe some other day when it’s not windy.”

“Okay.” Hope agrees. Her hair is flying in the air again, covering the half of her face, “How long will you be staying here?”

“Six more days.” Penelope replies, lifting an eyebrow after that, “Why? Are you bored of me already?”

Hope shakes her head slightly, looking at her hands. Like she’s trying to hide her smile.

“I am not,” she finally replies, “I just wondered how many days of freedom I had left.”

Penelope nods. She doesn’t understand it. She doesn’t know what Hope is feeling right now. She can’t imagine the state of mind the other girl is in, but she wonders. She knows it’s inappropriate, but she can’t help her curiosity eat her alive.

“Do you even know how to swim?” Penelope bites.

“I don’t know.” Hope replies with a nonchalant shrug.

“Well, it can be hard to swim if you don’t know how to do it.” Penelope is smirking, but she’s also studying her. She decides that she should focus on her hands today.

Hope averts her eyes again, away from Penelope. She doesn’t want to surrender. She doesn’t want to share something with a person who will be gone in less than a week. She doesn’t want to get attached to another thing she will surely lose in the end. That’s something she has learned the hard way.

“I meant that I don’t know if I would be able to swim or not.” Hope says, she means it lightheartedly, but it falls heavier than she thought. “I’ve never tried.”

“Oh…” Penelope says. She looks at the sky for a second. She’s thinking. “Maybe I can teach you one day.”

“Maybe.” the girl replies. Now she’s standing up, going for a walk on the shore.

Penelope doesn’t follow. She doesn’t think she would do something stupid. Or she wants to believe.

She draws her hands, her delicate and long fingers. Her hands are boned and their veins are distinct. Penelope wonders if she’s a real human being, because everything about Hope Mikaelson seems too flawless to be humanly.

Hope Mikaelson is beautiful, and Penelope is not afraid of admiring it.

* * *

The next day when Colette informs Penelope that the lady is waiting for her, Penelope pulls her aside. She keeps her voice low.

“She’s hard to paint. She’s always walking ahead, or alone.” Penelope complains, “I couldn’t even see her smile.”

“Have you tried joking, madam?” Colette smiles at her.

Penelope lets out a short laugh. She passes by Colette without saying another word to meet with the Mikaelson daughter.

Their routine is the same except one thing. This time Penelope notices that Hope has brought a slim rug with her. They lay that on the sand, and sit. The rug seems unfinished, one edge of it doesn’t have the patterns that the other parts have. She realizes that Hope is playing with that part.

“The rug looks unfinished.” Penelope says.

“My sister was doing it.” Hope’s voice is low, and sad, and too thoughtful with whatever going on inside of that pretty head of hers.

Penelope knows it’s not her place. But she wants to know. She wants to know more about Hope. She wants to know how she feels. Or maybe she just wants to be a support to her. She doesn’t get why she is caring. Maybe because Hope looks like she’s craving for a friend.

“Do you think she wanted to die?” Penelope’s question drops like a massive bomb into the silence between them.

“You know…” Hope starts as she turns to looks at Penelope, her eyes shine for the first time while she’s looking at her. Penelope tries to remember all of it. She’s memorizing her eyes. “…you’re the first person who didn’t even flinch while asking that.” she finishes.

“Why?” Penelope simply asks, “Should I be scared of you or something?” she pulls up her famous smirk.

For her surprise, Hope lets out a chuckle. She feels lighter. “You better be.” she replies, her lips formed into a small smile. There she is, Penelope has seen her smile now.

“Could you two get along?” Penelope is sincere.

“I guess so.” Hope is hesitant to say the next line, “She apologized in her last letter.”

“Why is that?”

“For leaving me alone with my fate.” Hope says, pointing herself with her hands.

“Don’t you want to get married?”

“What do you know about my marriage, Penelope?” Hope asks, it’s the first time the other girl’s name spill between her lips, and Penelope thinks nobody could ever say that better.

“I just know that you’ll marry a rich man from Milano.” she shrugs. She doesn’t really know anything else.

“Me too.” Hope replies. Those words hit Penelope harder than she expects. She, now, understands. “When will you get married?”

“I don’t think I will.” Penelope is honest, she could never imagine herself in a marriage.

"So, you’re not forced to marry?” Hope repeats, she wants to make sure.

“I’m not.” Penelope feels guilty while saying that. She knows it’s not her fault, but she wishes Hope had the same chance.

“You have a choice.” Hope replies, Penelope feels like her walls are building up. Whatever the smile Hope was wearing minutes ago, she doesn’t anymore. That worries Penelope in a way she can’t explain. Like she has just lost all of the improvement. “That’s why you would never get it.”

“I do understand.” she needs to save it. She needs Hope to understand that she gets her. She needs her to understand that she’s at her side. Penelope told herself that she’s here for nothing but her job, yet she can’t help being drawn to this girl more and more every other day.

* * *

“How is it going?” Hayley stops Penelope every now and then.

Penelope tries to avoid that question as much as she can. “We were out all day, and the light is insufficient during nights. I couldn’t do much.”

“I’ll keep her inside tomorrow, so you can work better.” Hayley suggests.

“Perhaps you could let her walk alone, madam.” Penelope answers. “She’s not sad, she is just angry.”

“Do you think I don’t realize her anger?” Hayley strictly answers. That’s not a question that requires an answer. “Just do me a favor and try to convince her about this marriage.”

“She’s not talking much with me.” and that’s true, Penelope thinks, although that’s not the only reason she doesn’t want to convince her for the marriage. She doesn’t think it’s fair to Hope. She’s not a belonging that one can give away so easily.

“I will be leaving for a few days tomorrow. I expect to come to good news.”

* * *

Penelope paints Hope in a complete silence. That’s how she likes everything. Silent. At least when she’s not the one making the noise. Her movements are swift, and soft. Just like how her father taught her once. She was blessed by this gift the day she was born, her father told her. Now Penelope is embracing the gift, she’s making a good use of it.

She wears the dress that Hope should be wearing while posing. Since Penelope is left without a model, she tries on the dress, and looks at her in the mirror. She studies the bright green of the dress, she studies the parts that wrinkle when she sits down. Penelope Park might be daring, and fearless, and sometimes way too forward, but she’s also the most talented when it comes to doing her job.

Hope enters the room quietly, Penelope is painting behind the sheets she has hung the other day. Upon hearing the movement in the room, Penelope quickly takes off her stained clothes and steps outside to greet her.

Hope is not smiling. But Penelope is used to it.

She walks past her, not saying a word. Penelope sometimes wonder if she doesn’t know how to speak English properly. Hope sits on Penelope’s bed. The latter walks closer to the former, but she’s careful. When it comes to this girl, everything Penelope does, seems like it’s about to scare her off.

That’s not something you’d want from somebody that you have to paint in a few days.

Hope looks at her when Penelope’s weight is felt at the other end of the bed.

“Do you have any tobacco?” Hope asks. And yes, Penelope definitely doesn’t understand this girl.

“Yeah…” she starts as she gets up and takes some cigarettes, “…here you go.” she lights one and hands it to Hope.

Hope takes the toxic fume in, her eyes water for a second but she doesn’t show.

“I talked to your mother, she will let you go out alone tomorrow.” Penelope says as Hope passes the cigarette she’s holding to her, “You will be free.” Penelope wants to smile again, but it feels too intimate to share with Hope.

Hope laughs, a bitter one. She doesn’t look amused to the slightest. “Does solitude mean liberty?” her question is like a slap to the face.

“Isn’t it?” Penelope asks, she’s looking at her eyes now. Hope’s eyes look mesmerizing even when they’re not exposed to sunlight.

“I don’t know.” a tiny smile appears on Hope’s lips. “I will let you know tomorrow.”

Penelope returns her smile, spending extra effort on trying not to seem too eager, “What will you do in your one day of freedom?” she jokes.

Hope just shrugs, “I will probably go to a rite.” she pauses for a while, “To listen some music.”

“That kind of music can be dreary sometimes.” Penelope comments, she’s scrunching her nose.

Hope smiles at the action. “I know,” she replies, “But I don’t have another choice.”

“Have you ever listened to an orchestra?”

Hope shakes her head in disagreement, although her eyes shine for a while with the mention of something new. “Have you?”

“I have.” Penelope is confident. She loves classical music. She has always loved it. That’s why her father taught her how to play piano when she was only six.

She gets up from the bed, goes to the other corner of the room. There’s a piano that is covered with a sheet. She blows the dust away as she sits on the taboret. She slips her hands under the sheet and starts playing without looking at the keys.

Hope has followed her. Now she’s standing right next to her. As Penelope keeps playing, the melody dances in Hope’s ears like a sweet summer wind. She closes her eyes for a second. She has never enjoyed listening to something this much.

Hope slowly bends down, removing the sheet that covers the keys. Penelope looks up at her upon the action. She sees the way Hope’s breath hitch.

And god, they’re so close.

“Are you trying to show off playing like that?” one of Hope’s eyebrows rise, curiosity and playfulness dancing in her eyes.

“Depends,” Penelope smirks, “Are you impressed?”

“Not really.” Hope says, returning a smirk of her own. She sits right next to Penelope.

Their shoulders are touching. That being the second contact they have ever had.

Penelope plays with passion, and anger, and sadness. She plays her favorite song. She plays it with all of her emotions that thrust into her mind whenever she hears these familiar melodies. She plays it with love.

“Is it happy?” Hope asks, talking about the song.

“No,” Penelope almost whispers, “It’s about life.”

She smashes the keys harder, “Upcoming storm!” she yells out of blue.

Hope is looking at her with grown eyes. She’s caught off guard.

“This is what the insects hear!” she yells again, violently playing the damn piano like she wants to murder it.

She rocks her head with the rhythm. Her fingers are quick and relentless. “And the storm comes!”

Now Hope is chuckling whenever she yells.

Penelope throws her head back, facing the ceiling. She is practically hitting those keys at this point, “Thunder! Wind!” she yells one last time before Hope bursts i nto laughter.

Hope laughs, maybe as loud as Penelope has been screaming seconds ago.

Hope laughs.

And Penelope decides that she wants to hear it more often.

* * *

The next day Penelope is in the kitchen, a piece of bread in her hand. She’s trying to please her empty stomach when Hope comes behind her.

“Hey, you.” Hope greets her, still not wearing a smile but she somehow looks more at ease.

“Hey.” Penelope says back, swallowing the last piece of bread.

“Are you going to join me tomorrow?” Hope asks. And Penelope hates how she’s unable to read her expressions, like never.

“Yes.” she replies, the side of her lip curls upwards, “Didn’t you enjoy walking alone?”

Hope is challenging when she looks at her. She’s dangerous. She is unknown. But there’s always something alluring about unknown waters and Penelope just wants to test the water.

“In solitude, I felt the liberty you spoke of.” Hope tilts her head, “But I also felt your absence.”

Penelope spends the rest of her evening working on the portrait. She adds few more details. She has finished it with every crumb of Hope she has in her memory, and it looks quite good. Not as pretty as Hope, she thinks. But then again, even the greatest painter in the world wouldn’t be able to capture the Mikaelson excellence, therefore she doesn’t blame herself.

She goes to Mrs. Mikaelson, joining her in the living room.

“The portrait is done.” she silently says. Something in her heart sting. As if she’s betraying the girl.

“Amazing.” the lady chimes in amusement, “Can you show me now?”

Penelope scratches the back of her neck before replying, “Actually, I want to show it to Miss Mikaelson first. She deserves to hear the truth from me.”

“Okay.” Hayley hesitantly replies, she doesn’t get why but she also doesn’t oppose.

Penelope is facing the old portrait when she goes back to her room. The one that has no face painted on it. The one that doesn’t represent Hope. 

She grabs a candle, the hazel of her eyes looks darker when the light hits her face from beneath.

She holds it out to the painting. The fire touching the heart of the girl in the portrait. Then her heart starts to burn, flames getting bigger. Penelope just stands back and watches the girl dissolve.

She watches as her heart burns into ashes. Just like Hope’s heart burns with desire.

But Penelope has yet to know that.

* * *

They’re sitting on the beach next morning, which has become a new routine for both. But Penelope’s stomach twists with guilt. She has had very different intentions in the beginning, but now she has grown fond of Hope. They have spent time, they have shared laughs, and Penelope can’t digest the fact that she has been lying right into her eyes this whole time.

Hope would think everything was fake, just for business. But to Penelope, it wasn’t. However much she wanted the opposite.

Hope is reading the book that Penelope gave her, and Penelope is reading Hope. It has gotten easier to read her, Penelope thinks. Because she feels like she has been knocking down those walls more and more ever so slightly with the arrival of a new day.

Penelope still can’t read her like an open book, but she can read the cover, at least.

Yet Penelope feels like the cover won’t be enough for her. She wants the damn saga.

Penelope looks down. For the first time, she doesn’t feel confident enough. “Hope,” she pleads. Even her voice sounds like an apology.

“Mhm?” Hope mumps, eyes not leaving the book.

“I need to tell you something.” Penelope continues, that’s when Hope finally decides to look up.

Hope doesn’t answer, Penelope gets this as a sign to keep going.

“I’m a painter.” the truth spills out so hard, “I was hired by your mother to paint a portrait of you.” the truth punches Penelope in the guts. “The portrait is finished.”

Hope just looks at her. Her facial expression doesn’t change but something in her eyes shifts. Penelope notices that. Hope is going through a train of emotions, and Penelope sees them all. Those emotions keep change until Hope decides on what to feel. Disappointment.

After what feels like forever, Hope speaks up, “When are you leaving?” her voice is stone cold.

“Today.”

Hope nods.

“I will go for a swim.” Hope says, a minute or two has passed. The weather is cold, and windy and the sun is barely seen. But she has no other choice, because she won’t have other days. She thought she would, but Penelope’s promises go unkept.

She stops Penelope when she realizes she’s getting ready to join her, “Don’t bother.” she says.

The words fall heavy, but Penelope lets her go. Not that she has the audacity to do otherwise.

She watches Hope as she takes her clothes off, only leaving the slim piece of clothing that she wears underneath her dress. She gets in the water, slowly walking further. And when she sinks, head full of thoughts, Penelope’s eyes can’t follow anymore. She’s out of sight.

When Hope gets back, she’s soaked. Her beautiful hair is now in a darker tone. She’s all wet, and trembling, and Penelope watches as she covers herself with her coat.

“Do you think I could swim?” Hope asks.

“I mean…” Penelope starts, no words sound right in her head right now. So, she decides to joke it off. She doesn’t know any better, “…you can float.”

She receives a small chuckle, but it dies down instantly.

“You know…” Hope starts, pushing the wet strings of her hair behind her back, “…that explains your stares.” when she finishes, Penelope can almost say that she sounds disappointed. But not in the way that Penelope has thought.

“Is this me?” Hope asks, facing her portrait in Penelope’s room.

Penelope doesn’t get the question, “Yeah?” she says, trying to make some sense out of it.

“Is this how you see me?” Hope asks again. Penelope has never been offended this passive aggressively.

“Everyone sees you that way.” Penelope snaps, “There are rules, and proportions, and perspective-” she is cut by the other girl.

“But no presence, nor life.” the girl is staring into her eyes. Her intense look pierce through Penelope’s heart. Penelope suddenly feels small, but also, she’s angry.

“Presence is something temporary. It has no meaning.” she doesn’t understand why she is so bitter about it. But then again, Penelope has always been the type to defend her art. She saw herself nearly perfect after all.

Although now looking at Hope, she understands that she has never ever been close to being perfect.

“Not everything is temporary, Penelope.” Hope’s voice is filled with resent. “Some things are real.”

Penelope is taken aback by the answer. But Penelope being the pure, untouched Penelope with her annoyingly competitive soul, she never steps back. On the contrary, she even pushes further.

“Pardon me, I didn’t know you were an art critic.” she almost hisses. She mentally facepalms herself right after.

“And I didn’t know you were a painter.” Hope somehow looks calmer, but the way she says those words is the least calm thing Penelope has witnessed.

When Hope leaves the room with her furious pace, Penelope grabs the nearest kerchief and wipes the head of the portrait like its nothing. One hit, then another. She dispels the paint.

It still doesn’t feel enough. She is ashamed of her work. For the first time in the history, Penelope Park knows how it feels to fail.

On the other hand, Hayley is not happy when she sees the ruined painting. Hope’s eyes search for answers in Penelope’s. But she gets none.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Hayley practically growls at Penelope’s face. Compared to her mother, Hope’s anger doesn’t seem so scary anymore.

“I wasn’t pleased with the outcome.” Penelope explains. Her chin up.

“It means you’re not skilled enough then.” Hayley says as she runs her hand through her hair, “There’s no need to keep you anymore, pack your stuff. You’re leaving today.”

Penelope is about to nod when Hope interferes in.

“She’s staying.” Hope demands. When her mother is about to open her mouth for another lecture, Hope stops her with her hand, “I will pose this time.”

And Penelope understands that however much she thinks she has gotten under the other girl’s skin, she will never know her enough to predict her next move. Because Hope is not only the definition of beauty, but she is also the definition of obscurity.

“I will leave the town for five days. I want this to be done when I come back.” Hayley says, and she storms out of the room.

* * *

“Can you lower your hand?” Penelope asks, Hope nods.

Hope is sitting on a small sofa, a coffee stand staying next to her. Penelope is behind the toile. Hope lowers her hand, but that doesn’t satisfy Penelope.

So, she walks to Hope.

“Can I?” Penelope asks, her hands stretched out. When Hope nods in approval, she holds the girl’s hands and place one of them on the coffee table.

Then she moves the other one beneath it, making the hand on top cover the other. Then she goes behind Hope. One hand on her waist, the other on her back, she slowly pushes Hope’s back. So that her back is arched perfectly. She notes the way Hope squirms under her touch.

Now her hand is going upwards. But Penelope, being the teasing person she is, doesn’t cut the contact. Instead, she trails up her fingers on Hope’s body until she reaches her neck. She touches her neck like it’s the most delicate thing in the world. And to be honest, she feels like it is. Her fingers gently make their way to her jawline. They slowly brush the skin there, and Hope lets out a silent whine. Her breathings get uneven.

Penelope Park, touching the angelic and soft skin of the other girl’s face, thinks that her hands have never been more blessed. She can’t help but melt into the thought of Hope. No matter how hard she has tried, something about the auburn-haired girl always pulled her back. Just like magnets. Penelope couldn’t resist the pull anymore, although she well knew that the union would hurt her. They’re like two delicate magnets, pulling each other just to collide rigorously on the way.

Penelope knows that, but that doesn’t stop her from wanting.

Penelope finds herself lacking the ability to control herself when it comes to Hope.

It scares the shit out of her. But she has always been one hell of a challenger.

When she’s done with helping Hope’s pose, she gets behind her toile once again. “Look at me.” she demands, yet she regrets it immediately.

Because when Hope Mikaelson directs her piercing blue eyes at her, she feels like she has been struck by millions of thunders.

The night doesn’t go as Penelope has planned, which is surprising because usually everything goes according to her plans. At least when they’re not about Hope Mikaelson. So, there’s this big shock on her face when she wakes up from her sleep in the middle of the night with Hope’s name escaping her lips. She’s all sweaty, her hair is messed up. Even the sweat drops dripping from both sides of her face are not enough to cool down her heat. She feels like all of her body temperature is attacking her head. She didn’t even know that her heart could beat this fast until now.

Her heart somehow manages to beat even faster upon remembering the context of the dream.

Hope Mikaelson was beautiful, and Penelope admired it.

She just didn’t think she would be admiring it this way.

The dream almost felt real. Actually, too real, Penelope thinks. And she shouldn’t be desiring the other girl this way. She knew she has already acknowledged her beauty, and her elegance, and her grace, and all that, but she knows her feelings shouldn’t go further than platonically admiring her.

Yet she’s a human too, that’s why she can’t blame herself when one of her hands slips beneath her underwear.

She can’t blame herself when she thinks about her neck, and shoulders, and hips, and everything in between as her body tenses up.

She can’t blame herself when she comes once, twice or thrice with the image of Hope touching her in her head.

She doesn’t know when, or how her heart got there, but it has happened and it’s too late. Her next move is to go downstairs to drink some water with the hopes of putting out the burning flame inside her ribs.

Colette is tackling with something next to fireplace when Penelope enters the kitchen. She goes straight in without saying a word to the maid. She doesn’t seem like she is available anyway. She finds a bottle of water and gulps it down in less than a minute. However much she tries to put out the fire, it only seems like it’s growing.

After her second bottle of water and one glass of wine, she is now sitting on a chair and watching the maid, doing whatever she’s doing. She coughs, making the maid look at her. Then she gestures her to sit. Just like their first night.

“What is this?” Penelope gestures at the mixture sitting in a bowl as she simultaneously pours a glass of wine for Colette.

Colette takes the glass, “It’s a herbal mixture.” she explains. She seems uncomfortable.

“For what?” Penelope rises an eyebrow, not exactly sure where this is going.

Colette is hesitant, she’s searching for something in Penelope’s face as she answers, “I am pregnant. I need to have a miscarriage.”

Penelope swallows hard for a second. She doesn’t know whatever she was expecting, but that wasn’t it. She’s sincere when she suggests, “Hope and I will help you.”

And she gets up to hug the poor girl.

* * *

“Come on! Three more rounds!” Penelope yells behind Colette as she watches her run towards Hope.

They’re on the beach. Penelope and Hope stand ten meters away from each other as they watch Colette run from one to the other. She’s out of breath and Penelope has never seen her this tired, but she has to do it. Not for Penelope, nor Hope. She has to do it for herself.

During her last round, Colette crumbles to the sand, her hand grabbing the grits harshly. Hope rushes next to her, holding out a hand which Colette accepts gladly. She pulls her up and puts one of her arms over her shoulder. She lets Colette lean on her. Then Penelope joins them and takes the other arm of her, doing the same as Hope has done. They carry her together to the house, making her sit down somewhere in the kitchen when they get home.

Now they’re sitting in silence as Colette eats some dinner.

Hope is the one breaking the silence, “Penelope?” she asks. The raven-haired turns her head to her.

“Yeah?” she replies, her voice is raspy and tired.

“Have you ever been in love?” Hope’s question is too forward. Too forward for Penelope to escape. It’s too risky for her to be honest. It’s too hurtful for her to be sincere.

Penelope hates that question.

Her mouth goes dry, and her heart starts to ponder again. She can’t be honest, nor real. She has to hide it as she has always done. She has to do it in the only way she has learned. Avoid. Change. Hide.

She is able to maintain her posture as she replies, “Yes, I have been.” her voice sounds so small that Penelope hates it. She can’t get vulnerable, not right now.

Her heart aches to the way Hope’s eyes shine with expectancy for a quick second. The edge of shorter girl’s lips curl into a smile, “How does it feel like? Being in love?”

“It is hard to explain.” Penelope smiles, her smile radiates sadness, the bitter truth and the endings that never feel like they completely end.

“Try me.” Hope challenges her, raising a brow.

God, Penelope finds that so hot.

She leans on the table, places her chin on her hand. She is staring right into Hope’s blues as she keeps talking, “It’s not like how people usually describe.” her voice is so deep and focused that Hope shifts in her position. “It’s not all yellow and pink.”

Hope nods, not that she would understand.

“It’s blue.” Penelope adds, “It’s not happily ever afters, or warmth.” she feels like there is a hole being dug in the middle of her heart right now. “It’s sad, and painful, and it’s sometimes cold.”

Hope bites on her lip, swallowing the pain she feels with every word spilling from Penelope’s lips. Those beautiful lips.

“But it’s also desire, and passion, and adoration.” Penelope’s voice gets more silent with every word she says, “Love is admiration.”

Penelope looks at Hope like she has pulled the moon and stars down to earth for her. She’s looking at Hope like she’s the most precious gem. She looks at her like she’s the masterpiece of the God. Penelope looks at Hope like she wants her to understand that those words were meant for her. She pours all of her emotions into her stares. She pours sadness, and longing, and wanting, and Hope looks back at her with fear.

The fear of losing something you’ve never had.

“Penelope,” Hope’s breath meddles into air, her whisper is like a wish. A silent wish for Penelope to take a step. One damn step and it would be enough for Hope.

But love is also disappointment.

And Hope has no idea that she is about to learn it hard way.

But then a loud crush comes next to them. Whatever they have been having minutes ago, it is gone. Hope’s facial expressions go from disappointment to shock when she sees the maid laying on the floor. Her eyes are half open, she doesn’t move, nor does she look like she’s breathing. Penelope crouches down next to her almost immediately. She slowly tries to lift her up, simultaneously slapping her face to wake her up. Colette’s eyes flicker open for a moment before closing back. Penelope, then, lifts her up fully. She is now carrying to her room, only to place her on her bed softly.

Penelope and Hope exchange some worried looks, definitely forgetting about the topic that has been talked about minutes ago. Hope exhales loudly as she lets herself sit next to Colette.

“Do you think she’s okay?” Hope asks, her voice is filled with concern. Penelope finds it nothing but adorable.

“She will be.” she reassures Hope. She places one of her hands on Hope’s shoulder. However much she tells herself that it is only to give some support, she knows that it’s because of the burning urge to touch her. Touch her somehow. Anyhow.

“Today has been quite weird.” Hope comments, she’s rubbing the back of her shoulders. Her eyes look tired.

Penelope doesn’t comment, her head is occupied with thinking.

After a moment of silence, she speaks up. “Hope.” she pleads. She melts in the second Hope looks at her. Oh, she definitely hasn’t signed up for this.

“Yeah?” Hope’s voice is sleepy, and vulnerable. She doesn’t look at Penelope like she used to do. Now her walls are lower, although not completely gone. Now, not only she looks at her, but also, she sees her. And she lets Penelope see her back. Sometimes she’s daring her, challenging her with the last piece of her being. Sometimes she teases her or mocks her. But their eyes are no strangers anymore. They have gotten familiar with each other, and Hope doesn’t want to think what will happen days later. She doesn’t want to think how she’ll miss the company of Penelope’s beautiful, deep hazel.

“I’m sorry about lying to you.” Penelope says, she’s looking at anywhere but Hope in the dim lighted room.

Hope sighs out loud. Her shoulders drop. She wasn’t prepared for this conversation.

“It’s okay.” Hope starts, she sounds hesitant. “I understand that you had to.”

Penelope nods, no words are being formed in her mouth right now.

“No more lies?” she stretches out her hand, looking at Penelope with her pure innocent eyes. She smiles in a childlike manner when other girl takes the offered hand into hers.

“No more lies.” Penelope replies. Upon seeing the smile formed on the other girl’s lips, she can’t help but join her.

They hold hands for a while, stay in that exact moment, neither of them moving. They try to read each other, both of them failing. And when the sparks begin to feel overwhelming, and when their cheeks start to get dark pink, they both pull their hands to themselves.

Hope’s lips are parted, her pupils have grown bigger. Penelope would notice if she was looking at her. She would hear the girl’s silent holler, but she doesn’t. She’s looking at her hands, looking at the spot where their hands united moments ago.

Therefore, Hope surrenders. She is too tired to wait. At least for tonight.

When the girl rubs her shoulders one more time with her lazy hands, Penelope intervenes, “I can give you a massage.” she offers, one of her eyebrows raised. She is ready to show her infamous smirk.

Hope lets out a small laugh, “I’m not sure.” she acts as if she’s thinking for a while. Penelope laughs when she scratches her chin, “Are you good with your fingers?” Hope sounds casual, but the question doesn’t sound like it is.

Any other person would be caught off guard, but Penelope isn’t.

“Depends.” she smirks, she is so close to the victory, “Where do you want them?” 

Her grin only gets wider when Hope’s face turns into a dark shade of pink. “Just shut up and do it.” Hope rolls her eyes, but she’s playful.

“Turn around.” Penelope demands with a serious face, and Hope really can’t take it anymore.

When the girl hugely opens her eyes and raises her eyebrows, silently judging other girl’s antics, Penelope just shrugs and raises her hands above her head like she’s innocent. “Now turn around.” she says again, Hope doesn’t need to look at her to see her grinning.

So, unlikely for Hope, she does as she is told.

She is now laying, her front facing the mattress. Colette is sleeping heavily next to her. Therefore, when Penelope’s determined but delicate hands touch the back of her, she tries so hard not to gasp. She closes her eyes, letting herself be taken care of. She allows herself to enjoy Penelope’s touch. She allows herself to savour the memory.

When she’s looking at Penelope, her heart feels lighter. When she’s close to Penelope, her body relaxes. But when their bodies make contact, Hope feels like her soul has gotten out of her body. She feels the liberty, she feels the sweet selfishness of wanting someone to be only yours. Penelope makes her feel like she is alive again, after being dead for ages. She makes her feel like she’s breathing after years of suffocation. Penelope frees her presence, but Hope always feels the solid crash of going back to her cage whenever Penelope withdraws.

She is now enjoying the liberty Penelope offers her, but not without knowing that she will be caged again tomorrow, or the day after that, or a week after. She will be caged eventually. She knows that, but it’s still worth the pleasure.

Penelope’s hands meet with her at the back of her waist. They rub her muscles carefully. Penelope touches her like she’s making art. She draws circles, she trails her fingers down Hope’s spine. Her movements are strong, yet still very fragile. She touches Hope like she’s afraid of breaking her.

Penelope moves her hands all around Hope’s back and whenever she squeezes a small part of her muscles, Hope tenses under her touch, “Just relax.” Penelope reminds her. And Hope does as she is told. Again.

Her hands go from her waist to her spine. Then her hands go to her shoulders. When Penelope gets there, she slowly loosens the collar of her dress. She is hesitant, but upon hearing no disagreement from the girl, Penelope swiftly slips her hands in and rubs her shoulders as her palms touch the bare skin of her body. Her skin feels so soft that Penelope thinks she’s touching something godly, so godly that she feels unholy for trespassing. Like she’s not worthy enough to touch something so perfect.

Hope discovers that when Penelope is touching her bare skin, rubbing and caressing it ever so gently, she can only last five minutes because now her eyelids get heavier. She’s doing everything she can in order not to sleep, but she can only resist the sweet urge of letting herself go for few minutes. Even before she realizes, she falls asleep, leaving Penelope alone with the rhythmic ups and downs of her chest. 

Penelope doesn’t want to stop. Touching Hope Mikaelson feels like an addiction to her. But she knows that she has to because now the girl is asleep. She feels like it’s not appropriate anymore, so she takes her hands back. Her heart immediately aches to the lack of contact.

Seeing the other girl so peacefully asleep, Penelope wants to caress her hair. She wants to make sure that she’s okay. She wants to save her out of this marriage. She wants to make her happy for the rest of her life. It doesn’t sit right with her. Everything inside her just tells her to hold her tight until all of this ends. But the thing is, this will never end for her, and Penelope has no place in her world.

Penelope is just a passenger to her story, she will just come and go. She will forever be a memory, maybe a bitter one or happy. She can’t afford to expect more. If she’s lucky, she will keep existing in Hope’s heart, but she’ll never exist right next to her. She’ll never be closer to her than right now, and it hurts.

Hope looks so damn beautiful, and Penelope wants to remember it all. She gets up and grabs a piece of paper. She sits on the edge of the bed, a small candle right next to her to provide enough light. She starts sketching, she draws every little imperfect perfection on Hope’s face. She draws Hope as she memorizes her features. She memorizes so that she can see her stunning structure every time she closes her eyes. She memorizes so that she can see her even from miles away.

Hope shifts in her position, making Penelope stop her movements. She opens an eye, peeking to see what Penelope has been doing only to find her staring at her. When Penelope is caught, she offers her a small mischievous smile, which Hope accepts gladly.

“Were you staring at me?” Hope lazily asks, her voice is slack as she rubs her eyes.

“I was.” Penelope grins, she keeps drawing her.

Hope raises her eyebrows, she licks her lips before putting herself in a better position. “Do you have an obsession with drawing me?” she’s smirking.

“I had nothing else to do.” Penelope lies smoothly, “Plus, you’re a good model. And kind of pretty.” she scrunches her nose.

Hope laughs, “Kind of?”

“Yeah, don’t flatter yourself.” Penelope smirks at her. Hope knows she doesn’t mean it.

“In that case…” Hope starts, “…you’re not that bad either.”

“This is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Penelope fakes a gasp. “Now lay down again so I can keep drawing.”

* * *

“I just…” Penelope huffs as she runs a hand through her hair, she is stressed, “I can’t make you smile.”

She’s standing behind the toile with her hands on her hips. Hope is posing for her, her auburn hair spread on the wide shoulders of her green dress.

“Sometimes the anger comes before happiness.” Hope says, her face is serious. She’s nothing like the girl Penelope has spent her previous night.

Penelope’s stress is written all over her face. She looks at the almost-finished portrait one more time before she speaks, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t.” Hope replies, but Penelope doesn’t believe her. “It’s not like it was your idea to hand me to a stranger without my consent.” Hope snaps suddenly. Her voice is filled with rage. She knows Penelope shouldn’t be the one receiving it, but there’s no one else that listens to her.

Penelope’s face drops, she hates this. She hates to think about it. She doesn’t know why, but the image of Hope marrying a man that she doesn’t even know makes her sick in the stomach. She wants it to stop, but she has no power to do so.

She chuckles lightly before she adds some details to the portrait. “You’re a terrible liar.” she says to Hope, out of blue.

“Where did that come from?” Hope asks, her stares are daring.

Penelope puts the brush down, she wipes the paint on her hands off with the towel dangling on her shoulder. She tosses it somewhere near the toile when she’s done, “When you’re annoyed, you play with your hands.” she points out to her hands. Hope is playing with them.

Hope lets out a hostile chuckle, stops playing with her hands.

Penelope keeps talking, “You bite the inside of your cheeks when you’re embarrassed.” she looks at the shorter girl as she bites on her cheeks.

Hope creases her eyebrows, refusing to look at Penelope. “When you’re angry, you avert your gazes.” she finishes, her charming smirk is placed on her face.

“I wouldn’t want to be in your place.” Penelope’s grin gets wider, she thinks she has trapped her.

“Oh yeah?” Hope asks, raising an eyebrow. She motions Penelope to come next to her, “Come here.”

Penelope starts walking towards the girl, her features are mixed with something close to confusion. When she gets next to her, she looks for answers in Hope’s eyes, to which the shorter girl only replies with a shrug.

“Look at there.” Hope demands, her hand pointing out the place where Penelope has been standing moments ago. Penelope follows her hand and her eyes flicker for a while before she gets it.

“If you look at me, who do I look at?” Hope whispers, now her anger is gone. It’s replaced with amusement. Her lips form into a small, mocking smile.

Penelope looks back at her. They’re really close and the sunlight gliding through the window turns Hope’s eyes into a different shade of blue. The kind of blue that Penelope finds herself drowning into. The kind of blue that Penelope also finds herself flying among. Her lips are slightly parted as she stares intensely at her. She feels turned on, to be more correct. Penelope has been struggling since the night she saw Hope in her dream, not that she would admit. Hope makes her feel intoxicated.

“When you don’t know what to say, you lick your lips.” Hope says as she puts her finger on other girl’s lips. She traces the soft texture ever so gently. Penelope’s gazes fall down to her finger. She inhales deeply.

“When you lose control, you start breathing from your mouth.” she adds, holding her hand right in front of Penelope’s mouth. Her warm breath caresses the back of her hand.

“And when you feel like something is wrong…” her finger is now in the middle of Penelope’s eyebrows. She notes the way the other girl squirms under her touch, “…you scrunch your nose, which creates a small crease right here.”

Penelope pulls back from her touch, trying to regain her position of power. She doesn’t like being vulnerable, nor being analyzed. She doesn’t want Hope to read her like an open book, not when she has spent most of her life trying to create a hard cover for it. She doesn’t want to get too high, because she knows the downfall is inevitable.

She clears her throat and goes back to her toile. When she looks at Hope this time, there’s a tiny smile on her lips, enjoying the outcomes of making Penelope Park frustrated.

* * *

Penelope slams down a card, making Colette jump a little. The maid looks at her lady with huge eyes.

Hope slams another right after her, not wasting a second. Colette, then, follows the circle.

Penelope slams one again, making eye contact with Hope. The excitement is running in the shorter girl’s blood. Her face is covered with a huge toothy smile as she keeps playing.

They keep slamming card after card to the wooden table. Their palms hurt but the adrenaline is strong enough for them to not care.

After a few rounds with stolen glances from each other and shared laughters, Hope’s lips form into a devilish smile. Penelope knows it’s not good news.

“Ha! I won!” Hope screams as she slams the last pile of cards to the table, bursting into laughter.

Penelope throws the desk of cards to the table and she crosses her arms on her chest. Colette is watching the reactions of the two with amusement.

Penelope holds back her laughter. She finds it so hard because Hope’s laugh feels contagious. “You cheated!” she shouts.

“Oh don’t get salty now, Park.” Hope playfully glares at her.

“There’s no way you could beat me. You cheated, cheater!” however much she tries to hold it back, Penelope’s lips betray her and curl into a smile. God, she really loves being the reason of the other girl’s smile.

“If that’s gonna make you sleep better at night.” Hope shrugs, she feels like a kid now. Carefree and happy. She almost forgets where she is, or who she is. She only remembers this moment.

“If you excuse me, I better sleep my ladies.” Colette excuses herself, upon receiving smiles and nods from other two women, she exists the kitchen.

Penelope watches the girl for a while before breaking the silence, “Do you want some wine?” she asks, grabbing the wine bottle meanwhile.

“Is this my prize for beating you?” Hope smirks as she takes the offered glass.

“No…” Penelope smiles, she pours herself some wine, “…this is me being a gentleman.” she scrunches her nose as soon as those words leave her lips, “God, that term is quite misogynistic.”

Hope chuckles lightly before holding out her glass. They toast them in the middle. With the warmth coming from the fireplace, they enjoy each other’s company, and the dizziness caused by their strong wine. They both love it. Just existing in each other’s space, not thinking about tomorrow. Not thinking about anything else other than getting drunk, or feeling good. They both stare at each other, different things going on in their deep thoughts. Neither of them says anything. It’s like they made a deal, and now they’re just appreciating each other with silent compliments. Both of them smile, feeling like they’re melting into one another. And maybe they’re melting. Penelope wonders whether she can take her with her if they melted enough. If they melted enough to be whole.

Penelope is the first one breaking the trance, “Would you like to continue painting?”

“Tonight?” Hope asks.

“Yeah, the sooner the better.” the taller girl replies.

Hope’s face drops upon hearing the reason, but she still follows the other girl to her room. Their steps are ghostly, not wanting the disturb already-sick Colette.

“After you.” Penelope says as she opens the door for Hope, to which other girl responds with a snort. Hope bows before passing by her.

Penelope gestures her to sit on the sofa while she gathers some candles, placing them around Hope before lighting them. She needs more light in the room, although she feels like her whole world is brighter every time Hope smiles… Oh, she really needs to stop thinking about these.

Hope is posing again, like she has done multiple times by now. She got used to it, now she’s posing with more confidence. She realized that she likes the way Penelope’s eyes wander on her body. Every now and then Penelope’s gazes start to appear deeper, more meaningful and Hope loves it. She feels admired, and beautiful, and precious. It is almost like Penelope is worshipping her solely with her eyes. It makes her feel butterflies in her stomach.

It is one of those times now, Penelope’s stares linger on her more than they should. Hope sweetly smiles, knowing her power on the other girl, “Liked what you see?” she simply asks.

“Uh- what?” Penelope asks, clearing her throat. Her trance is disrupted. Once she understands what she is being accused of, her cheeks start to burn, dark red replacing the smooth bronze.

“It’s just…” she starts, scratching the back of her neck. God, it feels so hot, has it always been this hot? Maybe it’s the candles, she thinks. “…can you open your neck a little more? I need to paint your collarbones.”

Hope stares at her, the desire in her eyes shines even more with the beaming lights radiating from candles surrounding her. “Like this?” she asks, never breaking her stare. She captures Penelope as her hand slowly loosens the neck of her dress. Penelope licks her lips upon seeing the sight.

“Uhm-” Penelope starts, she curses under her breath. “Not exactly.” she says.

Two can play this game.

She approaches Hope, goes standing behind the sofa. She slowly pushes her hair to the side, giving herself an open sight. Her hands find the back of Hope’s dress. She softly loosens it, her fingertips brush Hope’s pale skin. A soft gasp escapes from Hope’s lips, she slowly tilts her head, giving Penelope more space.

“Do you paint nude models too?”

Penelope almost chokes on air.

“What?” she feels her heart race accelerate to a hundred in a millisecond. The question slowly makes its way to Penelope’s consciousness. Her insides start to tingle with a certain thought flashing into her mind. She can’t be implying something, can she?

“Only women.” Penelope replies after a while, not forgetting to send a wink through Hope’s way. The other girl rolls her eyes.

“Why?” Hope asks, her tone is slightly bitter.

“Jealous much?” Penelope teases her, she’s still standing behind Hope. It’s easier to tease her when she’s not looking at her endlessly deep eyes.

“You’re so full of yourself.” Hope rolls her eyes, not that Penelope can see it.

Penelope laughs softly, “I’m not allowed to paint men. At least not like that.” she says nonchalantly. She doesn’t really care about this rule, “Women are prettier anyway.”

Hope sighs loudly, a shake of her head following right after. “What do you tell your models to keep them entertained?”

“Are you bored?” Penelope asks, lowering herself to the height of Hope’s shoulder.

“No,” Hope replies, upon feeling the warmth of Penelope’s breath mingling near her ear, she slightly turns her head. Penelope is taken aback when her nose touches the side of Hope’s left cheek, “I’m just curious.”

Penelope’s well-rounded lips form a devilish smile. Her dark hazel eyes look even more dangerous when they’re under insufficient lightning. “You look so beautiful today.” Penelope whispers as she leans towards the other side of Hope, her breath hitting the curve of her neck. Hope inhales deeply. Penelope doesn’t hear her exhaling. “Your skin looks extra smooth today.” she keeps going.

Hope has closed her eyes, gripping the edge of the sofa so tightly in order not to react physically.

“The curve of your neck…” Penelope starts as she runs a finger along the line on her neck, “…is perfect to be drawn.”

Hope’s teeth are tightly pressed against each other.

“And your eyes…” Penelope smoothly slides in front of her as she says so. Now they’re staring into each other’s souls, both with the hopes of being loved in return yet neither of them is brave enough to show. “…look like they could be one of the seven wonders of the world.”

Hope’s lips begin to form a smile, the cheeks of her getting a darker shade of red each passing minute. Her blue eyes look darker now. Her pupils have grown with lust and desire. She is thirsty. She is thirsty for Penelope and she can reach her. She can just reach and grab her beautiful face. She can pull her into a kiss. But she won’t. Hope knows better than to be vulnerable.

When the silence is unbearable and Penelope’s body feels like it’s being crushed under the tension in the air, she clears her throat, “That’s what I tell them.”

And with those words, the little bubble that has been making Hope feel intoxicated just pops. The expectations of the girl are shattered all over the floor.

* * *

_Orpheus and Eurydice._

_A love story that was doomed in the beginning._

_One day when his lover Eurydice dies tragically because of a snake bite, Orpheus decides to travel to the Underworld to win his lover back. Upon hearing his wish, Hades challenges him with a mission. If Orpheus can walk to the Upperworld without looking back at Eurydice, he will get his lover back._

_With his lover’s shadow following him few steps behind, Orpheus starts to make his way towards the Upperworld. The more he walks, the smaller the faith in his heart for the gods gets. He thinks that the gods have fooled him when he doesn’t hear the steps of his lover. Only a few feet away from the exit, Orpheus is defeated to his curiosity. He looks back at his lover, hoping to see her. Before he can do anything, Eurydice’s soul is whisked back among the dead. Orpheus loses his lover because he has lost his faith first._

_It was a love doomed from the beginning._

* * *

“I don’t get it!” Colette snaps out when Hope has finished reading.

They’re in the kitchen. Hope is reading the book she has borrowed from Penelope as the other two women listen to her. When the story ends, and Collette snaps at the ending, Hope slightly jumps in her seat.

“Why did he have to look back?” Colette sounds really pissed. It is the first time both women see the maid this angry. “There were only a few steps left. He should’ve been more patient!”

Hope is as confused as the maid. She doesn’t understand it either. She thinks she would never risk a victory that is so close to her.

Meanwhile, Penelope is watching the reactions of the duo with a cocky smile placed on her lips. She sips from her wine whenever Hope creases her eyebrows.

“Can you read the last part again?” Penelope asks.

Hope nods, determined. She focuses back to the book. She sips from her wine before reading out loud again.

“Only a few feet away from the exit, Orpheus loses his faith and turns to see Eurydice behind him, but her shade is whisked back among the dead, now trapped with Hades forever. Orpheus tries to return to the underworld, but a person cannot enter the realm of Hades twice while alive. He, then, starts playing a mourning song with his lyre, calling for death so that he can be united with Eurydice forever.” Hope looks up to Penelope when she finishes reading.

“I don’t understand it either.” Hope says, there is a small wrinkle in the middle of her eyebrows that appears when she’s too focused. Penelope watches the expressions on her face change with an amused smile. “If he hadn’t turned around, they would reunite. I don’t understand why he risked it.”

Penelope thinks for a while before responding, “Maybe he chose the memory of her. That’s why he turned back.”

Her grin gets wider as Hope and Colette look at her with confusion written all over their faces.

“He made the choice of a poet, not a lover.” Penelope adds.

Hope’s eyes glow for a second, her mind is full of thoughts and possibilities. When her eyes meet with Penelope’s, her words fall from her lips like a silent bomb.

“Maybe she was the one who said: Turn around.”

And right in that moment, Penelope wonders if she would choose Hope’s memory or her presence.

* * *

The next night is cold. The sky is filled with gray clouds. Hope has never liked gloomy weathers. It always made her feel like they were the signs of doomsday. Her body felt heavier, her soul felt more naïve. She felt like there was a huge elephant sitting right on her chest, preventing her from breathing properly. Tonight, is one of those nights, but she doesn’t want anything to turn into a catastrophe. Tonight, they’re going to the beach to listen some music that will be sang during a rite.

Hope doesn’t want it to be ruined. She doesn’t want to miss any chance. Her freedom is limited and she plans on squeezing as many songs as she can into this scheduled liberty.

When three of them arrive to the beach, the local ladies have already gathered around the fire. They’re chatting, laughing, and exchanging memories that will be forgotten in less than an hour. They’re all endued in thick clothing as they swing along with the murmured songs. The fire in the middle is huge, huge enough to radiate reputable amount of warmth. They all look peaceful and for a second, Hope likes it. She feels like she’s in another dimension, far away from all of her problems. Far away from the reality of life. She’s far from being captured.

Colette excuses herself to talk to some lady about her pregnancy when they approach the fire. Hope and Penelope nod in approval. Now with the departure of Colette, both of them feel like they’re all alone even when they’re surrounded by strangers. Despite the bonfire being the only source of light in the blinding darkness of the night, Penelope still feels like whenever she’s around Hope her whole world gets ten times brighter.

They walk in silence for a while, both enjoying the weird pleasure of being strangers to everybody but each other. They talk with locals, have some of their alcohol. They make jokes, and they gossip. They learn new information from an old lady. And when they’re on their third round around the small area, Penelope looks at Hope with her eyes that are full of expectancy.

“Come with me.” Penelope offers, one of her eyebrows is raised as she stares at the girl in question.

“To where?” Hope asks. She is fairly confused.

“Just follow me.” she orders before she starts running towards the beach. Hope starts to run behind her while her mind tries to digest what’s going on.

They’re now running towards the other side of the beach. The wind of the cold night slaps them in the face, hurting every part of their skin. Penelope stops midway, taking her shoes off. “Take your shoes off!” Penelope yells back at Hope who happens to be few meters behind her.

Hope does what she says and they both keep running, the sand under their feet makes them feel like they’re hovering. They’re hovering through the sky, through the heaven and through the infinite. They’re reaching to the stars. They’re messing with the moon. They’re mocking with the universe. But most importantly, they’re being purely themselves in the world of two-faced puppets.

This time Penelope leads, and Hope follows.

Penelope stops when they run far enough, out of curious eyes. Hope is breathless, her heart is wildly beating in her chest as if it’s going to rip off her ribcage. The adrenaline in her body sends a fuzzy feeling through her spine. She feels like she might just explode right there. When Penelope’s amused stares catch her attention, she bursts into laughter. Her voice echoes in the silence of the night.

It is hard to see Hope’s features in the dark, so, when her laughter fills the space between them, Penelope’s posture shifts into a more relaxed version.

“Why did we do that?” Hope asks as her laughter dies down in Penelope’s ears.

“Lay down.” she simply replies as she does exactly what she has said.

Hope doesn’t question. She has learned not to question Penelope. She finds herself laying right next to her. Their backs touch the cold sand but neither of them cares. Their insides are burning way too much to realize the coldness on the surface.

Penelope looks at Hope, “Now look up.” she demands.

When Hope’s gazes find their way to the sky, she sees the most mesmerizing thing she has seen in her entire life. Among the pitch-black color of the sky, millions of stars reveal their faces to the pair. They’re so bright and visible that Hope thinks if she looks any longer, she will definitely go blind. The beauty of the universe sinks in Hope’s heart like a remedy. “Wow…” is the only word Hope can form.

They lay down in silence for seconds that turn into minutes. Both of them watch the stars with the company of each other’s regular breathings. The silence doesn’t feel weird or uncomfortable. On the contrary, it feels soothing. This silence is filled with admiration and curiosity as the whole universe is hung upon them. Now, they don’t have to think about anything but to exist in each other’s space.

When Penelope moves her hand a little, the pinky of her right-hand touches Hope’s. It lingers there for a while before she decides to brush Hope’s hand softly with it. The other girl turns her head towards her upon the contact. She stares at Penelope in awe that the other girl is not able to see. The dark is hiding their emotions like a mask.

“It’s beautiful.” Hope says. _You are beautiful._

Penelope chuckles softly, the sound of which brings peace to Hope’s heart. “You’re beautiful.” her confession meddles in the air, the angels of the night carry it into the infinite.

In this limited time, Penelope taught her the infinite.

She taught her the stars, and the moon, and how they shine when they meet with the angelic skin of the other girl.

She taught her something that Hope will never forget.

Hope’s heart starts to beat rapidly, trying react properly to the words of the other girl but failing. Her head feels hot, and her legs feel numb and her mouth suddenly goes dry when the realization hits her. She has been called beautiful so many times in the past, but when it comes from the pretty lips of the raven-haired girl, it all feels so new and different. When she says it, it’s like a blessing to Hope’s ears. Penelope finds her beautiful and Hope understands that she has never felt prettier than she feels right now.

When she opens her mouth to say something in return, Colette’s hoarse voice fills her ears. She’s calling out to them, her breathing intermittent.

“The song is about to start. I thought you wouldn’t want to miss it.” the maid says.

Penelope and Hope exchange stares before answering, “We’re coming.”

They reluctantly walk towards the fire side by side. The back of Penelope’s hand touches Hope’s and the girl looks down at where they touched. She wants to hold it. She wants to intertwine their hands so harshly that Penelope wouldn’t be able to get rid of her grip. Penelope wouldn’t be able to leave. Penelope wouldn’t be obligated to say goodbye.

When the bonfire comes into their sight again, they see that all of the ladies have gathered around the fire, holding hands and murmuring the start of a song. Some of them are old, some of them are young. But despite their differences, they all look integrated.

Hope stands by one side of the circle as Penelope keeps walking. The taller girl goes to the opposite of Hope, lifting her head up to look at her instantly. The fire is burning brutally between them and among the ashes soaring in the air, they pick each other’s features and admire them silently. Both of their eyes shine, either because of the fire or the mutual desire they have. When the song that the ladies has been singing get into a faster rhythm, their chest starts to fluctuate with excitement. The song fills their ears, and their hearts.

The song is somehow so peaceful and exciting at the same time. They can’t help it when a broad smile made its way to their faces. They can’t help it when their heart beats start to accelerate with the song. They can’t help it when they look at nowhere but each other.

When the song ends and the lyrics turn into laughter, Penelope realizes something with Hope has changed. Hope is looking at her, small but a sad smile dominating her lips. When she takes a few steps back from the fire, Penelope spots that the hem of her dress is burning. The flames get bigger as Hope takes few more steps back. She never breaks the eye contact. And when she falls down to the ground as the dress of her ignites more and more, she feels the first hit of love. She falls, and the fire is already there. She falls and it already hurts. It’s an inevitable end, and Hope has become the victim.

* * *

Their routine on the beach is pretty much the same except for one thing. Now they’re climbing down the rocks again, but Hope’s hand finds its way into Penelope’s. Although the taller girl is surprised at first, she lets herself grab it back with the same eagerness as the other girl. Hope helps her jump from a rock, and when Penelope gets down it’s the other way around. She helps Hope as the girl takes a big step. Both of them grab each other like they’re afraid of falling.

When their feet touch the sand, Hope lets go of Penelope’s hand. She fastens her steps as she leaves a confused Penelope behind. The beach is windy that day, both of them have scarves covering half of their faces. Hope breathes in the smell of sea she loves so much. When she doesn’t hear Penelope following her, she makes her way towards a small cavern that is placed beneath the cliff. The stones are moist and it smells like moss but Hope doesn’t care. She doesn’t know why she has gone there, or what she is waiting for, yet she still waits.

Her heart doesn’t seem like it’s going to beat slower in the next few minutes, so, she tries to take deep breaths to keep herself calmer. Being around Penelope gives her this feeling of ectasy. Her blood is boiling like somebody has struck a match inside her heart.

Everything feels too much to her now. She feels like she’s suffocating, gasping for air but it doesn’t feel enough. She doesn’t want these emotions. She doesn’t want desire or lust or expectations. She doesn’t want the heartbreak.

But her thoughts are useless when she sees Penelope entering the cavern. She looks anxious and concerned. There’s a small crease on her forehead that only appears when she’s distressed. There’s a hint of something in her eyes that Hope can’t quite name.

Penelope’s steps are heavy and painfully slow. She’s thinking about something. Hope can see that she is lost in her thoughts. Maybe Penelope is suffocating too, but expecting this is a way too big risk for Hope. She can’t let that happen. She can’t let her feelings control her actions.

Penelope makes her way to Hope as she keeps her head down. Her hands are shaking and now she has glued them to each other to prevent them from doing that. It’s useless though. However much pressure she puts on her push, her hands still feel shaky, cold and wet. Inside of her palms feel itchy as she gets closer to the auburn-haired girl.

She stops when it’s only few steps between her and Hope. When she looks up at Hope, she understands that it’s the dumbest thing she has done because now her legs feel weaker and she’s sure Hope can hear the sound of her heartbeat. They’re now alone in a small cavern next to the beach, the light coming from the entrance gives them enough brightness to see each other’s expressions. Penelope doesn’t like it as she knows she must be looking like a lost puppy at the moment.

Hope’s stares get too intense for Penelope to hide, or ignore. Her ocean blue eyes pierce through her skin, her soul and her presence. She makes her forget everything she knows. She makes her forget how to blink, and how to form a sentence. Hope Mikaelson enchants her and Penelope forgets everything but her.

If you had asked her a month ago whether she would have this flood of feelings for a girl she is doomed to lose from the beginning, Penelope would just laugh it off. She has always seen herself as someone who is levelheaded and collected. She has always handled her emotions in such a professional way that her heart escaped from being torn apart for several years. That was until Hope Mikaelson. Now when the girl is closer than three feet to her, Penelope’s mind is deprived of making the right choices, or even thinking before acting.

And Penelope, the girl who does everything on purpose, loses her senses for a second as the girl before her looks back at her with eyes holding the universe.

Penelope doesn’t know how it starts, but she has now taken two steps towards the girl. Her heart beats like it’s going to crash her chest. It feels like gravity pulls her even harder now just so as to stop her steps, but she resists.

When she is close enough to see the little greens in Hope’s glassy blue eyes, she takes the deepest breath she has ever taken. Her brain, and her heart, and everything else on her body stops functioning.

Hope knows Penelope has lost control because she starts breathing from her mouth.

Penelope’s hands are shaky when she pulls down the scarf that covers the half of Hope’s face. Her skin feels so warm against her fingertips.

Her mind is like a wreck when she slowly leans in. Her hands grab the neck of the other girl ever so gently. Her touch is sacred, yet still so fiery.

She holds Hope, pulls her slightly to herself. The other girl is startled, panic is written all over her face. But it’s okay. Penelope feels like she only has right now.

When they meet in the middle, and her lips touches Hope’s soft ones for the first time, Penelope wants to die. She wants to die so that the only thing in her memory would be the way the other girl feels against her lips. When their lips touch, they’re motionless for a second. They’re trying to comprehend what’s going on, but Penelope’s heart beats faster with every passing second in which Hope doesn’t kiss her back.

So, Penelope dominates the kiss. She captures Hope’s lips with her own. With the bottom lip of the shorter girl in between her lips, Penelope thinks that she doesn’t want to taste anything else anymore.

She is more than satisfied when Hope kisses her back as she holds onto her waist.

She tilts her head, giving more space for herself to deepen the kiss. Hope’s sloppy but determined kisses give Penelope more encouragement to bring out her tongue. When the tip of it touches the outer part of Hope’s lips, the shorter girl opens her mouth to ensure Penelope the entrance.

Penelope accepts the offer very gladly as she slips her tongue into the other girl’s mouth. It feels wet, and warm, and sweet, and better than anything Penelope has done before as their tongues dance in an unfamiliar rhythm.

They’re dancing. They’re making art. They’re kissing.

In between their lip bites and little gasps in need of air, they just savour the moment, the flavor and the feeling.

Hope has never kissed anyone but if it feels this good, she regrets she hasn’t done this before. She doesn’t know if it’s because of Penelope, but her whole body feels ensorcelled as she keeps up with Penelope’s already established route.

They melt into each other. They get lost in each other and for a moment, Hope thinks they have united. She feels whole. She feels complete. It’s like there has been a void in her heart through her whole life and Penelope just fixed it like it’s nothing. She filled the void with desire, and lust, and tension, and everything else Hope has avoided her whole life.

Penelope’s kisses burn through Hope’s lips and she is scared. She doesn’t want to get burned. She doesn’t want to get hurt.

The realization hits Hope and she pulls back. Penelope looks at her with parted lips and darkened eyes. Lust is leaking down on Penelope’s face. Her eyes are filled with concern and horror. Hope’s heart aches at the sight, but her logic keeps her from surrendering.

That’s why Penelope’s hands drop down when Hope takes a step back. She turns around and leaves the cavern before saying anything. She leaves without looking back at her.

Penelope doesn’t dare to follow, her heart feeling heavier than the rocks she’s standing beneath right now. Penelope doesn’t dare to follow her because she doesn’t feel called, or wanted.

She goes back to house alone that day, but the spiritual loneliness overweighs the physical one.

Her thoughts are silent as she walks without a company.

Love, is reaching and failing.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!!
> 
> There will be a second chapter, I hope I can finish writing it as fast as I can. If you have any suggestions, please let me know. 
> 
> This fic is based on the movie "Portrait of a Lady on Fire" although I have made some changes. 
> 
> Also the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice is one of my favorites. I suggest you to check it out.
> 
> Until the next update, stay hydrated and safe!


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